


Fluke

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Faeries - Freeform, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Not Beta'd, Pre-Slash, mate!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 15:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6246277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I will seize fate by the throat; it shall certainly never wholly overcome me."--Ludwig van Beethoven</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Derek and Stiles get kidnapped. It's actually not so bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fluke

**Author's Note:**

> okay so i have to preface this with the fact that i only ever watched through season 2 of teen wolf and even then, i watched it when it first came out so i'm not exactly _in_ the fandom anymore. i've recently gotten back into writing fanfic and have been reading a ton of sterek stuff, so i decided to try my hand at writing these two dorks again. (i wrote several fics back in the day for these dorks).
> 
> anywho, yeah! be gentle, it's sort of my first time. i hope you enjoy!

“I’m laying it out, right now, that this is definitely not my fault.”

Derek growls at him, baring his teeth and eyes flickering red. Stiles isn’t deterred, not even a little bit.

“Not. My. Fault.” Stiles relaxes as best he can despite his hands being tied behind his back and his ankles tied together. And, despite the fact that Derek is all tied up with rope laced with _wolfsbane_ of all the fucking things. “Not your fault either.” Stiles concedes after thinking about it a little more. “Well, maybe your fault? More your fault than mine but mostly _their_ fault.” Stiles jerks his head toward the locked cell door.

Derek growls again and Stiles chooses to hear it as _yes Stiles, excellent observation, keep talking_.

“Okay, so, let’s take stock of the situation.” Stiles shifts, wriggles more like, until he and Derek are facing each other. “We have been kidnapped. By creatures that have pastel colored skin and are, arguably, more beautiful than you.” If his hands were free, Stiles would be ticking off each statement like a bulleted list. He does it in his head for now and figures Derek gets the idea. “We’re locked in a cellar and they clearly know you’re a werewolf.”

Derek’s growling has subsided and he’s settled for just glaring at Stiles.

“Why did they take me is a good question.” Stiles tilts his head from side to side as though the answer is rattling around between his ears. “I mean, _spark_ , duh, but, also not duh. Cuz it’s not like I’m some almighty being.” Stiles taps his shoes together, no particular rhythm involved, until Derek starts to growl again. “No one knows we’re missing.” Stiles continues to fill the silence. “We’re probably going to die. Or, at least, I’m going to die.”

Derek’s growling stops so abruptly it’s almost funny. “You’re not going to die.” His voice is deep and serious and angry—not at Stiles but at the _idea_ that Stiles thinks he’s going to die.

“Uh, okay. Sure. I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Derek actually nods and Stiles gives up on coming up with an escape plan after that. No particular reason for giving up, aside from his brain not being able to handle being kidnapped and Derek essentially vowing to protect him. His brain can barely handle watching TV while he studies. Trying to handle this? Too much, way too fucking much.

)

They get knocked out again and when they wake up, there in a room even darker than the last surrounded by the aforementioned pastel-skinned gorgeous motherfuckers. Stiles wants to make a quip, something witty, but Derek shoots him a look that quells the urge. Mostly.

Stiles watches as the people go about the room, dainty and sparkling. Running through the plethora of books he keeps memorized, Stiles decides they’re either faeries or pixies, and neither of those options are really great. Stiles tries to tell Derek his conclusion, but he’s being interrupted by one of the pretty sparkly things, one that is brighter than the rest and glows gold.

_“We do not mean you any harm.”_

Its voice is booming and loud and yet terribly soft at the same time. It makes Stiles incredibly uncomfortable and Derek flinches at the sound.

Stiles can’t help himself. “Could’ve fooled me!” He snaps, pleased when Derek doesn’t reprimand him or glare.

The glowing gold pixie-faerie-thing gestures its comrades to Stiles and Derek, and in the blink of an eye their restraints are gone. They’re even pulled to stand and Stiles skin feels like it’s tingling and burning where it was touched by the _things_.

_“We want to form an alliance with the Hale pack.”_

Derek steps forward and Stiles follows his lead. When Derek doesn’t say anything, Stiles fills the void—because doesn’t he always? “And you thought kidnapping us was the best way to do that?”

The shrug he gets in return is downright comical, and he laughs before he can think better of it. Derek does glare at him this time, but the glowing gold thing just smiles.

 _“Our apologies.”_ It bows. _“We would like to form an alliance, though. For both our protections_. _”_

So, that’s what they do. Derek slips into alpha mode: the one where he’s negotiating and diplomatic, not the kind where he’s hairy and snarling. Stiles always gets a kick out of watching Derek be so professional, especially because the longer the negotiations go on the more uncomfortable he gets. It’s better than most things on TV these days.

Stiles is brought out of his entertainment by the gold _faerie_ brandishing its arm in a grand gesture. On the table before them, a contract flutters into existence. Derek skims over it and Stiles skims it while peering over Derek’s shoulder. It’s got everything they’ve spent the last two hours talking about, seems legitimate, Stiles is pleased and Derek seems to be as well.

Derek holds out his hand and the faerie slices into his palm, letting the blood fall onto the contract. He heals pretty much instantly but the moment his blood hits the contract it glows brighter. Derek takes a step back and it’s clear he’s ready to leave. The faeries, however, don’t make a movie. In fact, all eyes fall on Stiles.

Stiles makes a confused noise.

 _“Both leaders of the Hale pack need to commit to the alliance.”_ Goldilocks states pointing at the contract.

The back of Stiles’ neck heats up. “Ah, wrong idea buddy, I’m not—not one of the leaders.”

Goldilocks looks at Derek as if to confirm and Stiles starts to flounder when Derek doesn’t do anything. Derek doesn’t say anything, or shrug, or growl. He stands there and stares at the contract with wide eyes and a somewhat terrified look on his face.

_“You are not… mates?”_

Stiles whole body heats up. “Uh, no?”

 _Now_ Derek moves, if only to bristle unhappily. Stiles stares like the alpha has grown a second head because what the fuck.

“What the fuck?” Stiles snaps. “What the—?”

Derek growls and pushes Stiles toward the table. “Just sign the damn thing and we will talk about this later.”

Stiles makes the same confused noise as before but holds out his palm just as Derek had done. As the knife, also glowing and also ethereal looking, cuts into his skin Stiles realizes he isn’t feeling pain. He also realizes Derek has a hand clamped to the back of his neck and is absorbing the pain.

What a gentleman.

)

They’re in the Camaro, which by the way had been outside the faerie’s hideout the entire time just hanging out. They’re in the Camaro and neither of them is talking and Stiles is deeply contemplating opening the door and diving out of the car. They’re only going forty miles an hour, he’d live. It’d be fine. He starts to reach for the automatic lock on the door but stops when Derek growls.

“You know, words are a lot easier to understand than growls.” Stiles remarks.

“You seem to understand me just fine.” Derek retorts. His eyes are focused on the road ahead and definitely not looking at Stiles, now how Stiles is side-eying Derek like crazy. “Calm down. It’s not a big deal.”

“One, how is it _not_ a big deal?” Stiles ignores the way his voice climbs in pitch. “Mates are a thing? Do werewolves mate for life?”

Derek rolls his eyes so hard Stiles is worried they’re going to fall out of his head. “No. It’s just… an urge. It’s not predestined, not fate or kismet or any of that bullshit.” Derek takes a turn smooth but Stiles sways with the motions just to be a dork. “Mates occur when you meet someone in your life that… that you care deeply for. It’s not predetermined. It’s just a heightened bond that happens when…” Derek looks physically pained so Stiles takes over.

“When you fall in love?” He tries. It doesn’t get a response so he tries again. “When you, fuck, just accept that it’s happening?”

Derek shrugs. “More or less. You can choose to ignore the pull of the bond and be with someone else, and you can develop that bond with other people. It’s just… really intense emotions, is all.”

Stiles nods and feels calmer. “So you feel really intensely about me?” He’s not meaning to be cheeky but he knows it’s just his default setting at this point.

Something ticks in Derek’s jaw. “Unfortunately.”

Stiles chooses graciously not to comment on that. He speeds right by it (okay, maybe he tucks it away for later). “So, even though I’m not a werewolf, am I—can I still feel it too?”

Derek nods jerkily. “It’s not a werewolf-specific thing. It’s just how things work. Werewolves are more inclined to sense the bond. It’s similar to pack.”

Stiles nods again, understanding piece by piece. “So, if I didn’t want to date you, I can say no and date someone else?”

Derek’s answering _yes_ is a hiss through clenched teeth.

“And if I don’t want to find someone else?” Stiles prompts.

Derek looks over at Stiles so fast they swerve on the road and end up pulling over. “Stiles.”

“Look, big guy, I’m not saying I love you or some shit like that.” _Not yet_ a voice in the back of his mind nags. It sounds suspiciously like his mother. “I’m just saying that you’re hot, and we’re pack, and obviously we seem to be dating already, so.” Stiles trails off with a long exhale. He holds out his hands, palms up, as if to say _there you have it_. “So yeah.”

Derek’s stare hardens. It brings Stiles back to being in high school; it faintly resembles the pinched look Derek would sport when something went awry or when Stiles did something especially reckless. It’s a fond memory, and Stiles kind of grins at the look. Derek’s expression shifts into a soft grin. It’s not taunting or predatory or crude, it’s freakishly delicate and Stiles finds himself thinking he wouldn’t mind seeing it on the daily.

“So yeah.” Derek agrees.

Stiles doesn’t squeak when Derek lean across the center console and kisses Stiles so gently it almost hurts. Okay, he does squeak, but he’ll deny it if asked.


End file.
